Lecter vs Lecterphiles
by Biyo94
Summary: Clarice challenges Dr. Lecter to write a fanfiction...
1. Challenge extended challenge accepted

**Disclaimer: Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling belong to the creative genius- Thomas Harris.**

 **A/N: English isn't my native language. So please excuse the errors. Reviews are always appreciated.**

* * *

 **Challenge extended; challenge accepted**

Dr. Lecter stifled a yawn as he watched the woman sitting across him ramble on about her miserable life.

Aleatha Greene, 42 had been divorced for three months. This was her sixth therapy session with the Doctor.

"I don't know why I didn't see it earlier. I mean the signs were all there. John and I were so close before he hired Donna. After that, we just drifted apart..."

Their weekly sessions were tedious, even more tedious than his interactions with Raspail had been. Dr. Lecter had a sudden urge to snap her neck then and there, and end both their miseries. But he knew it'd raise red flags if a prominent member of their social group suddenly disappeared. Who was he kidding? He could handle a bunch of cops. The actual reason his hands were tied was Clarice. Aleatha was a friend of hers and if he killed her, he'd have to deal with Clarice's rage. The thought gave him heebie-jeebies.

She had come a long way since her FBI days. His cub had grown into a ferocious lioness. A year ago, she'd banished him from their bedroom for two weeks. Apparently she had _caught_ him flirting with a young woman at a party. He had tried to set the record straight to no avail. Hannibal Lecter, cannibalistic murderer of more than twenty people, had been forced to sleep on the couch in his own house. He had planned and plotted to re-earn his place in his bed. Showering her with semi-automatic pistols had mellowed her. A brand new Porsche and he was golden. The lesson he had learnt was to always remain in her good graces.

When she'd asked him to conduct poor Aleatha's therapy, he had no choice but to submit to her wishes.

And so he sat, cross-legged, his face unreadable, listening to the hardships faced by the newly divorced Ms. Greene.

"Rachel seems to be handling the divorce much better you know. She's found a new hobby. She sits on her computer all day long writing stories." Rachel was Aleatha's 16 year old daughter.

"Stories? What kind of stories?"

"Fanfiction."

A quizzical expression on Dr. Lecter's face.

"There is this website on the internet where you can write stories about characters someone else created. Books, movies, plays. There's all kind of stuff."

"Interesting," he thought.

When he didn't say anything, she continued, "She writes a lot about that psychopathic cannibal, Hannibal Lecter. Should I be worried?"

"I'm sure it's harmless, Aleatha."

Their hour came to an end. As soon as Aleatha was out the door, Dr. Lecter fired up his laptop and started surfing the net. What he found shocked him to the core. There were thousands of stories written by amateurs about him, dozens of communities and blogs were dedicated to him and Clarice. Full-fledged websites had been created in his honor.

He was aware that Sir Anthony Hopkins' performance had made him quite popular but he hadn't realized till now the extent of his fan base. He didn't know how to feel about it.

His smart phone buzzed, Clarice's picture appearing on the screen.

"Good evening, Clarice."

"So formal. For once can't you greet me with a 'hey' or 'yello?'"

"I'll try next time."

"We'll see. Are you busy?"

"No."

"Oh good. Tell me which dress should I wear to the opera tonight? The green one or the red one?"

"I'm sure you'd look good in whatever you wear, my dear."

"Charmer. I'll be there in an hour, okay?"

"Okay. I love you"

"Love you too."

* * *

Dr. Lecter and Clarice occupied their seats in the ornate box beside the stage. The lights dimmed and the curtains opened. Halfway through the performance, she could tell that his mind wasn't into it. His head was tilted slightly, his forehead creased just a bit, a sign that only she knew meant he was thinking very hard about something. She didn't disturb him and occupied herself with the performances on the stage.

The drive home was no different. The silence unnerved her.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked when she couldn't take it anymore.

"Of course not."

"Then why the silent treatment?"

He faced her, realizing his mistake.

"I'm so sorry, Clarice for giving you the wrong impression. I'm not mad at you. It's something else."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

''Would you take no for an answer?''

''Nope.''

He sighed. "Do you know people write stories about us?"

"Hannibal, you gave your blessings to Tom when he sought your permission to write about the events of our lives."

"I'm not talking about Thomas.'' A pause. ''Amateurs write about us." Disgust was evident on his face.

Finally realization dawned on her. "You mean fanfiction?"

"Do you know about it?"

"Of course I do. I've written some fics myself."

"I beg your pardon."

"Fics. Short for fanfictions. It means stories."

"You write stories about us?" he asked, surprised.

"I go by the name cstar7. I don't like to blow my own trumpet but I'm quite good. Apparently people can't get enough of my writing," she replied, haughtiness dripping from her voice.

"I can't believe it."

"Every other person writes fics now a days. So many of our friends do. I'm surprised you didn't know."

The revelation shocked him and he spent the remaining drive trying to process what she had said. Clarice, on the other hand, was exultant. Finally a subject she had more knowledge about than he did.

On reaching their mansion, Dr. Lecter went straight to his study. Clarice removed her (torture) heels, grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses from the kitchen, and padded toward his study, muttering, "It's gonna be a long night."

He was sitting in front of the PC, on his big leather chair. He looked up when she entered.

"Show me."

After opening the page of SOTL/Hannibal on ff/dot/net , she told him about the ratings. She handed a glass to him and with the other curled up on the sofa to observe. Dr. Lecter took a sip of his wine, rubbed his hands together, more for effect than anything, clicked on the story at the top and dived into the world of fantasy. It was a one-shot written by Biyo94 about what happened between them after the dinner at Chesapeake.

Five minutes later.

"So what do you think?" Clarice asked, curious about his reaction.

"This is fanfiction? Smut? No plot, no flow, nothing."

She giggled. "It must be, what we fanficers call, a lemon. I've written some myself. They are fun to write."

''You write pornography?''

She rolled her eyes. "Oh come on Doctor. There's nothing wrong in writing some mature content. The fics are filtered you know."

No reply from Dr. Lecter.

"Try another one," she suggested.

* * *

Clarice woke up eight hours later to find Dr. Lecter still sitting in front of the computer. When she opened her mouth to speak, he raised his index finger. He finished reading and looked at her, giving her his full attention.

"Good morning, my dear."

"Morning," she yawned. "Did you sleep at all?"

He smiled. "No. I was busy. I read six multi-chapters and forty one-shots."

Her eyes went wide. She knew he was a quick reader but this quick, she hadn't guessed.

"So what do you think?"

"Mediocre work, I must say."

"Why am I not surprised?" she mumbled.

"I heard that."

"You need to keep in mind that these are amateur writers, Hannibal. Lower your sky-high standards just a little bit and you'd enjoy their work."

"Why should I lower my standards? These people should raise theirs if they really want to be called authors. Their work is ghastly."

Angered by his verbal attack on fellow Lecterphiles, she hissed, "You take that back. You take that back right now."

He shook his head defiantly.

"You want to be banished from the bedroom again, Hannibal Lecter?"

"That's not fair, Clarice," he protested, sounding like a teenage boy who got sent to his room by his mother.

"Fair? You know what's not fair? Criticizing other people's work when you don't know the first thing about writing."

"For your kind information, I am a published scholar. I've written in prestigious journals and reviewed numerous psychiatric books."

"That's not the same and you know it," she yelled. She took a moment to calm herself then continued, "Actually you don't. That's the problem. You can't appreciate fanfiction because you haven't written one. Why don't you write one?"

She walked up to him, never breaking eye contact.

"Are you up to the challenge, _Doc?_ " She knew her use of the word 'Doc' to address him would rile him up.

Dr. Lecter stood motionless like a snake observing its prey. His red tongue darted out of his mouth, touched his upper lip for a nanosecond, then returned to its resting place. His maroon irises glittered as they caught light.

"My college roommate tried to challenge me once..."

"Let me guess. You ate his liver with some fava beans and a big Amarone."

"What? No. Of course not. Why do people always assume the worst about me?" he lamented. "I accepted his challenge and came through with flying colors."

"Good for you. How about my challenge, Doctor?"

"Do you really need to ask, Clarice? I accept it. I'll write a _fic_ ," he said, unable to hide his distaste for the word. ''I'll show these self-proclaimed authors what writing is.''


	2. Flamed!

_Since I don't have any other means to contact my 'guest' reviewers, I'm going to do it here._

 _ **Autumn Phillips:**_ _A big thank you for very kind words. I'm glad you liked my other fic, your wonderful review there gave me the courage to write this story :). Your support means a lot to me. Lots of love._

 _ **Guest:**_ _Thank you. I'm glad you approve. Regarding your question, I think there was a small misunderstanding. I used 'apparently' in that sentence followed by 'caught' in italics to convey that the real situation was different from what Clarice perceived (He never flirted with her). I completely agree with you that Dr. Lecter is monogamous and very happy with Clarice (Final chapter of Hannibal proves it). I hope I answered your question to your satisfaction. Thank you once again for a positive review :)._

* * *

 **Flamed** **!**

"So how do we do this?"

"You will need a fanfiction account to publish. I can create one for you."

"That would be great, my dear. Thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for work. I have to see a patient in two hours."

About an hour later, he came down the stairs into the living room, dressed impeccably in a jet black Armani suit. Clarice was sitting on the couch with the laptop on her lap.

She whistled when he came into view.

"Ooh. Sexy."

"Handsome would do, you know," he said, giving her a chaste kiss.

"I say what I mean," she replied, reminding Dr. Lecter of that eventful night at the Chesapeake when they had come together, metaphorically as well as _literally._ He chuckled at his own private joke.

"What's so funny?" Clarice asked, her eyes still on the screen.

"I was just thinking about that night at the Chesapeake when we first had sex…"

Her eyes flew to him. " _Had sex?"_

The smile gracing his lips suddenly vanished as he realized his blunder, his face contorting into an expression of nervousness. "Made love. We made love for the first time. I made love to you and you made love to me," he blabbered.

They looked at each other, his eyes pleading, hers unreadable. The silence between them was deafening.

"Now there's a sight I never thought I'd see. Hannibal Lecter trembling in nervousness." With that, she burst into hysterical laughter.

Relief washed over his features. Although he didn't show it, he was pleased. He had told her in Memphis that her problem was to get more fun out of life. She deserved her fun, even if it was at his expense. He would gladly become a clown if the result was the sweet sound of her laughter. She had wasted far too many years living in misery. If there was one person in the world he deemed worthy of being truly and utterly happy, it was his love.

A full minute passed before her laughter subsided.

"Now that you've had your fun, can we talk business?"

"Sure."

"Any progress on the fanfiction front?"

"All done except for one thing. What do you want as your pen name?"

"Dante," he replied instantly.

She typed it. "Sorry. It is already taken."

"Try Marcus Aurelius."

She tried, then shook her head.

"Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Villon, Blake?"

"They are all taken.'' Her eyebrows furrowed. ''It seems like we're gonna have to be more creative."

Looking at his watch, he said, "Whatever you decide will work for me. I have to go now. Bye."

* * *

Dr. Lecter was sitting in his Bentley, waiting for the traffic light to turn green, when his phone buzzed.

A text message from Clarice.

 _It seems you're in luck. Brace yourself, here it comes..._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _._

(Dr. Lecter scrolled down the screen.)

 _Danterocks_ ;)

 _You're welcome._

 _C_

A loud groan filled the car.

* * *

The brain of an ordinary person can process only one thought at a time. Dr. Lecter wasn't ordinary. He was a genius in every sense of the word. His mind could follow several trains of thought at the same time without distraction from any. As he sat across his patients listening to their ordeals, a part of his brain was busy with the nitty-gritty of his story. He had decided upon the basic framework during his drive to work. By the time his last patient departed, he had prepared a rough draft in his mind, edited it and given it finishing touches. All that remained was to bring it out into the physical world. He fired up his laptop and started typing his story. When he finished, he was lost in self-congratulation at his own exquisite taste. Shortly after emailing it to Clarice, he left for home.

Clarice had to shake her head vigorously to clear the haze from her mind. She was having a hard time warding off sleep.

 _Five pages down. Five more to go. Come on girl, you can do this._

She was reading or rather trying to read Dr. Lecter's story. It was sheer torture. She had given up on trying to understand the plot, when she was on the third page. She had a rough idea that it was a comparison of their love with that of Dante and Beatrice. That was the theme. There were several complicated plots knitting the story. The writing was so complex that she had to look up the meaning of every other word. Dr. Lecter hadn't even translated the Italian verses, which he'd used in spades, forcing her to use Google translate, despite the fact that she had good knowledge of the Italian language. It was an arduous struggle. If she had to make a list of the top ten most trying experiences of her life, this would definitely make the cut.

 _Oh my God! His writing is more lethal than his harpy. This is it. This is gonna be my end._

A pair of maroon eyes were watching her from behind the couch. Clarice was so exhausted that she hadn't noticed him enter the room a minute ago.

Dr. Lecter cleared his throat to attract her attention. Nothing. It was then that he realized she was reading his story.

 _Ah. She's completely engrossed in my writing. Can't say I'm surprised. It is the finest literary work of the modern era. Correction. Finest literary work since Divine Comedy. Shakespeare doesn't stand a chance against me._

"Good evening, Clarice."

She jumped at his deep baritone voice. "God, Hannibal. You almost gave me a heart attack."

He came around and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"I'm sorry," he replied, though his eyes screamed, "I'm not."

He sat down on the couch beside her. Smiling broadly, he asked, "So...? What do you think?"

"About what?"

The smile fell from his lips. "Human rights situation in Saudi Arabia." Her lips twitched at the sarcasm.

After a moment, she said, "Umm. I don't know how to describe it, Hannibal."

 _She doesn't have words to praise my work._

Smiling boastfully, he requested, "Please try, my dear. Just one word is more than enough."

"Okay. It was umm...," she trailed off.

 _Brilliant, awe-inspiring, fabulous, incredible._

"Crap."

It was like someone had poured ice-cold water on him.

A long pause.

"You believe my work is...ahem...crap?" he asked in a frigid tone. Most people raised their voices in anger. It was the opposite in his case.

"That's the only word I can think of to describe it," she replied indifferently.

He stared at her for a long time, the warning to take her words back explicit in his eyes. She matched his cold stare with her own defiant one, taking back nothing.

"I see what this is. You're trying to discourage me so that I won't publish. You can't bear the thought of me receiving praise for my work from your fellow fanficers."

Clarice burst into laughter. "You think that's what this is? Petty jealousy? Hannibal Lecter, you're deranged! It is time to wake up and smell the coffee. Your writing sucks! I haven't read such a dull piece in my entire life. Children's stories are more interesting than your work. You want to publish it? Go ahead. You have my blessings."

Dr. Lecter snatched the laptop from her and opened the 'login' page on ff/dot/net.

"What is the password?"

"Chilton's an asshole. No spaces." Her voice was flat.

Dr. Lecter smiled despite himself. His Clarice was as whimsical as he was.

Following her directions, he published his story on the website.

"What now?"

"Now we wait."

"For what exactly?"

"Reviews. The fandom is quite active. You'll receive feedback from your readers."

''Hmm. Interesting.''

On the surface, Dr. Lecter seemed nonchalant but inwardly, he was excited. Like any other author, he wanted to know the opinion of his readers, even though he knew the said readers were no match to his intellectual prowess.

"You know what? We can check the reviews in the morning. I'm exhausted. Let's call it a night." She padded toward the bedroom, Dr. Lecter closely behind.

* * *

Dr. Lecter woke up at seven which was surprising as he wasn't an early riser. He had a strong feeling that something big was about to happen. He got up carefully so as not to disturb his bedmate and made his way to his study. It was time to check the reviews. After logging into his account, he clicked on the 'Reviews' option. Danterocks' story had received one review from an anonymous reader. It went like this-

 _I'm massaging my temples as I write this. Stupid bitch, your whore-iffic story gave me a fucking migraine._

 _Your story is worse than garbage, even maggots will refuse to eat it. It is a sore acne on the face of fandom. You're lucky, sucky writing isn't a criminal offence, or else you'd have got the capital punishment. Do mankind a favor and remove it right now, you dumb cunt!_

 _And what kind of name is Danterocks, huh, fucktard? You trying to be cool? Don't 'cause you're not. You're an assmonkey who lives in his/her momma's basement._

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was _flamed._

* * *

 **A/N: The first review I ever received was a flame. That got me wondering how Dr. Lecter would react to such a situation and the plot of this story was formed. Some of the curses I've used here are the ones from that memorable _'_ review.' LOL.**


	3. Clarice to the rescue

_Thank you **Guest** for your inspiring words._

* * *

 **Clarice to the rescue**

Half asleep, Clarice subconsciously reached for Dr. Lecter. When she couldn't feel him, she flung her arm to his side of the bed.

Still nothing.

Her eyes fluttered open and she frowned. Rubbing her sleep addled eyes, she glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. It read seven thirty. She sat up slowly, looking around the room.

 _That's strange._

It wasn't like him to get up so early. Out of the two of them, she was the early riser. On the rare occasions that he woke up earlier, she would somehow feel his intense maroon eyes roaming over her body and wake up all hot and aroused. He had an uncanny ability to arouse her just with his gaze. What followed was a vigorous bout of lovemaking that always made him late for work. She remembered this one time when they'd both been insatiable and he had to call Lisa (his secretary) and ask her to cancel all his appointments for the day. They'd spent that entire day in bed making love and talking about arbitrary topics. Her lips curled up at the memory. This was her blissful life now as Angela Davis, wife of Dr. Charles Davis, a dream filled with love and joy. Sometimes she marveled at the turns her life had taken to unite her with the love of her life.

Clarice got up, covered herself with her white satin robe and padded down the stairs to find Dr. Lecter.

She checked the kitchen and the dining room but didn't find him. When she reached the living room, she called out his name.

No response.

In the quietness that followed, she heard a soft thud coming from somewhere inside the house. She followed the sound, her FBI senses in full gear.

Clarice found Dr. Lecter in his study, hands clasped behind his back, head lowered, pacing between his large antique oak desk and the book shelf near the opposite wall. He didn't look at her when she entered.

"I called out your name, Hannibal. Why didn't you reply?"

Her voice broke through the clouds of thoughts surrounding his mind. "You called out for me? I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," he replied still not meeting her eyes.

His voice was flat, not the cheery type that she was used to when he addressed her. His countenance screamed that something was wrong.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, worried.

Dr. Lecter suddenly stopped.

"I received a review for my story."

"That's great! Show me. I wanna read it."

He gestured toward the PC. Clarice sat down on the leather chair, her features distorting as she read the abusive words.

"Oh my God! What's wrong with this person? How can someone be so malicious? I mean, what's wrong with Danterocks? It's a perfectly good pen name."

Looking at her with astonishment, he said, "That's what you're upset about? That he didn't like the pen name you selected? What about the abuses he flung at my writing? Don't you have anything to say about _that_?"

"I'm sorry. You're right. Even if your writing sucks, it doesn't give anyone the right to troll you. There are always subtle ways to put forth one's opinion. If I were in his place, I would've written something like… writing isn't for you, pal but keep trying or… this piece was dull but I'm sure you'd improve or… though your writing is poor, I'm sure you're good at other things or..."

"Thank you very much for buoying my spirits."

"I was just teasing you. Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

Clarice clicked on the 'Moderate Reviews' option and deleted the hate message.

"Done. I've deleted it. Nobody will read it now."

Dr. Lecter's voice was ice-cold as he hissed, "I've read it. I cannot unread it now. It is imprinted on my mind, Clarice."

She could see the fire blazing in his eyes as she asked hesitantly, "So what are you gonna do, Hannibal?"

The monster within him reared his fiendish head as he replied, rather dramatically, "A profane act like this must be dealt with the severity it deserves. On the Hannibal Lecter Rudeness Index, I rate it a 9 (alarming) and for the benefit of society and...ahem...my own peace of mind, I declare this person unfit to live."

She rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Oh boy. Here we go."

Dr. Lecter didn't seem to notice as he smiled devilishly and continued, "It is time to create some tremors in the world. It is time to wreak havoc. It is time for victim number 37. It is time to quench the thirst of my harpy with the blood of this fool. It is time to..."

"It is time to throw away that harpy," she supplied.

He gasped. "No. I love that harpy!"

"Hannibal, it is rusted! The blade has got blunt. Don't you remember the last time you used it? You had to bite off Robert's jugular to kill him. That damn harpy couldn't finish him off. The next time _your life_ could be on the line. I'm putting my foot down on this. You have to get rid of it."

"But it's an antique model I got at an auction in Zurich. It has been with me for so many years." He tried to reason with her but to no avail. Defeated, he yielded, "Fine. I'll get rid of it. Can I ask you for something in return?"

"Sure. Anything."

"Tell me how can I obtain the address of that fool?"

"Actually…um…you can't. He doesn't have an account you can hack into. He's completely anonymous."

Dr. Lecter flopped down on the couch, whining, "Oh, it is the worst day ever. I got abused by some chump and I can't do anything about it. And now I've to get rid of my harpy. Great! What a perfect way to start the day."

Clarice walked up to him and sat down on his lap. She slid her arms over his shoulders, his head resting against her breasts. "Baby, I know how you're feeling. I'm so sorry," she said gently petting his hair.

About ten minutes passed before he sighed and looked up at her.

"I have to get ready for work now."

"Can't you take the day off?"

He shook his head.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

He smiled then. She worried way too much for him which he found oddly charming.

"Yes, my dear. I'll be fine. You needn't worry."

"You wanna know a secret?'' she whispered, "whenever you go all Hannibal 'the Cannibal,' I get turned on."

Smiling seductively, she lowered her mouth to his. The kiss they shared was slow and sensual. When he swiped his tongue over her lower lip, she pulled back, smirking at the groan of frustration that escaped his mouth.

''More when you come home…tonight,'' she purred into his ear, making him shiver.

With great effort, Dr. Lecter bade her goodbye and left for work, her words from earlier conjuring erotic images in his mind.

He shook his head to focus. _Okay. Time to work. Playtime later._

* * *

The sight that greeted Dr. Lecter's eyes as he opened the door, took his breath away. Clarice was leaning against the wall, arms folded against her chest, a knowing smile on her lips.

She was wearing a black sultry lace negligee, low cut, exposing the curves of her full breasts, and matching silk panties.

With a few quick steps, he crossed the distance between them, coming face-to-face with her. He could see the maroon of his eyes reflected back in the copper green of hers.

''Clarice, you look absolutely ravishing.''

Without further delay, he covered her mouth with his. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, plundering its depths as her arms encircled his head. He cupped her breasts with his hands, his thumbs flicking the pebble-hard nipples through the fabric, making her moan into his mouth. He trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck as she pushed the suit jacket off his shoulders. She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, which pooled around his ankles, and started stroking his cock through his boxers. Enjoying the low guttural sounds, her ministrations evoked, she giggled, then gasped as he turned her around violently so that she was facing the wall. He ripped off her panties and thrust into her roughly from behind, the force making her jump a little.

''Oh God...Hannibal.''

The pain and pleasure of penetration turned her legs into jelly, his strong arm around her waist keeping them from buckling. He thrust into her again and again, the strokes increasing in depth and speed. With one hand, he pushed the strap of the negligee off her left shoulder and bit down hard, drawing blood.

He knew she was close. Bringing his mouth closer to her ear, his breath hot and moist, he whispered, ''Clariiiiiiceee…come for me.''

As his thumb flicked the swollen bud of her clit, Clarice's body convulsed.

''Hannibal,'' she yelled as her walls tightened around him.

He himself couldn't hold back any longer and with one final thrust, spilled his seed inside her, her name on his lips like a mantra. Even in the throes of passion, he had enough strength to support his weight as well as hers.

As she recovered from her orgasm, Clarice turned around to face him, her breathing still erratic.

''That was amazing,'' she said, kissing him softly. He pulled her closer to him and deepened the kiss. She could feel him getting hard again against her belly.

''Hannibal, you're insatiable!''

He chuckled and replied, ''Guilty as charged,'' then scooped her up into his arms and strode toward the bedroom.

* * *

 **A/N: I tried really hard to delay the sex until later chapters but these two just couldn't keep their hands off each other. I ignored Clarice's puppy-dog eyes but when Dr. Lecter intervened and stared me down with those intense maroon eyes, I had no choice left, did I? So don't blame me.**


	4. Dr Lecter, panties and pics

**Dr. Lecter, panties and pics**

Dr. Lecter and Clarice laid beside each other on their king-sized bed, her head resting on his arm. Pale moonlight streamed through the windows, filtered by the bice blue curtains. The only artificial light source in the room was the digital clock on the bedside table, the numbers 330 and the colon between the 3's glowing in deep red color, piercing the semi-darkness. It was cold outside but their bodies were hot and sweaty, courtesy of the amorous activities they had been involved in throughout the night.

Clarice got up lazily and retrieved a modest robe from the armoire. Donning it gracefully, she asked, ''I'm going to get some water. You want anything, honey?''

Dr. Lecter rolled to his side and answered, ''Actually, yes. Would you be a dear and remove that robe? It is hindering the view I'd very much like to enjoy.''

Her cheeks flushed crimson as she shook her head and tied the robe, ignoring his request.

Dr. Lecter sighed. ''I never should have bought those Parisian robes for you. You have no need of them.''

''Oh really? You want me walking around in my underwear in the morning?''

His lips curled up, mischief dancing in his eyes as he replied, ''Now that I think about it, you have no need of under garments as well. Why don't you get rid of them?'' His voice was both soft and hoarse at the same time.

She looked down at the ripped negligee and lace brassiere lying on the carpet beside the bed, Dr. Lecter following her eyes. ''I don't have to. At this rate, I'll be running out of underwear very soon.''

His throaty laugh echoed off the walls of the room. She turned and walked out of the room toward the kitchen to quench her thirst.

When she came back, she saw Dr. Lecter sitting against the headboard, his fingers moving on his phone's screen. She settled herself beside him and asked, ''Checking your mail?''

He shook his head. ''I've got three new reviews for my story,'' he said, handing her the phone.

Clarice read the reviews. They weren't as bad as the flame he'd received the previous day but they weren't positive either.

''Not a single word of praise. I thought my story would create waves in the world of fanfiction. It's…disappointing.''

Seeing him so dejected dampened her mood as well. She'd predicted that something like this would happen but that hadn't prepared her for this. He was taking it far too seriously. She should have known better before extending the stupid challenge. She knew saying words of comfort wouldn't lift his spirits. He was a rational person. She decided to appeal to his logic.

Her voice was soothing as she said, ''Don't feel so bad, Hannibal. So what if some people didn't like your story? Since when does Hannibal Lecter care about what people think about him or what he does, huh?''

Looking at her he replied, ''I don't. It's just that this is the first time...this is the first time I've failed at something.''

"You haven't failed! You've hardly even tried. It was your first attempt. Give it another try."

"Oh, I don't know."

"Pleeeeeeeeeeease," she pleaded. "For me."

Dr. Lecter smiled. His Clarice wouldn't allow him to give up. "Okay, Clarice. I'll give it another try."

Her delight at his words was short-lived as he quickly added, "But only if you teach me first."

"What?"

"You heard me."

A small pause.

"Let me get this straight. You, Hannibal Lecter want me, Clarice Lecter to teach you how to write a fic."

He nodded.

"Well, I don't think that's a good idea, Hannibal."

Her reaction wasn't what he'd expected but he didn't show his disappointment. "May I ask why?"

"It's just that...I don't think...I have the...ability to...um...cope with your...talent."

The lie detector in his mind flashed red and he narrowed his eyes. "Out with the truth now!" he commanded in his dungeon voice, making her shudder.

"Fine. I think you'll be all arrogant and condescending and a giant pain in the ass as a student, and I don't want to deal with that," she uttered in a single breath.

They stared at each other for a long time before he muttered, "I understand" and lied down, facing away from her.

Clarice was stunned at his reaction. She'd expected a mocking comeback or at least a vehement denial of the accusatory words she'd used.

"You're okay with this?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes," he replied, his voice devoid of emotions.

She lied down and pulled the comforter over them. Her last thought as she surrendered to sleep was "What's with the quite acceptance? It's not like him to give up so easily."

She was right. Dr. Lecter had a plan.

* * *

A heavenly odor woke her from her sleep and she recognized it instantly.

 _Mmm. Bacon._

Her nose led her to the kitchen where she found Dr. Lecter frying about ten strips of bacon in a cast iron pan.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stunned.

Looking up, he gave her a sly smile. "Cooking bacon."

"In the pan? You always use the oven. You never cook bacon in the pan! You say it's unhealthy."

He shrugged. "Meh. Exceptions can be made every now and then."

 _What's he up to? Think, Clarice, think. Ohhhh..._

"Hannibal, I know what you're up to," she announced, satisfied with the conclusion she'd drawn.

"What am I up to, my dear?" he asked innocently while turning over the strips one by one with a tong.

The sight of perfect, crispy bacon strips in addition with the aroma wafting through the air made her mouth water. Diverting her eyes from the pan, she said, "You're trying to bribe me, aren't you? You want me to teach you how to write a fic and for that, you're using my favorite food against me."

"Is it working, Clarice?" he asked bluntly.

She swallowed mouthful of saliva before answering, "No, it isn't! You should be ashamed using..." Her voice died in her throat as she saw Dr. Lecter transfer the gorgeous red strips directly to a plate.

"Umm Hannibal, aren't you gonna use a paper towel to get rid of the excess grease?"

"And lessen the taste? Now why would I do that?"

Her eyes went wide as she blurted, "Who are you and what have you done to my husband?"

Dr. Lecter chuckled and picked up a crispy strip. But before he could bring it to his mouth, her voice interrupted, "What are you doing? I thought you made it for me."

"I did but since it's not working...," he trailed off as he made a show of taking a bite and chewing excruciatingly slowly, producing appreciating sounds deep in his throat.

"It is working, alright. You win. Now gimme my bacon!" she exclaimed and without further delay, snatched the plate from him.

Clarice was too busy devouring the greasy bacon to notice his smug smile.

 _That was too easy._

* * *

"I've two conditions. Number one, you will not be condescending to me during the whole endeavor and number two, you'll follow all my directions blindly. No argument will be entertained. The conditions are non-negotiable. Do you accept them?"

He nodded in approval but she could see that maroon glint in his eyes. That gleam which screamed, ''So you think you're smarter than me? We'll see about that.''

''I don't believe you.''

He sighed. "Clarice, I give you my word that I won't patronize you and I'll follow your directions blindly. Happy now?"

She wanted to believe him but doubt had crept into her mind and it wouldn't leave without tangible assurance. How could she obtain solid assurance from this man? She thought for a few moments…

 _Eureka._

She walked up to him, took his hand and led him to the bedroom. Once there, she asked him to sit on the bed while she opened a drawer in the armoire and retrieved something. She turned around to face him, her hands behind her back, hiding whatever she'd retrieved from his field of vision.

Looking into his eyes, she ordered, ''Strip.''

A smirk. ''Now who's insatiable?''

He stripped down to his boxers and stopped. She raised an eyebrow and gestured toward his boxers with her head.

''Very well, '' he said, slowly removing the last piece of clothing.

He lunged forward, attempting to grab a hold of her. She stopped his movement by placing a hand on his bare, well-muscled chest. ''Hold on tiger.'' Her voice was silky soft as she continued, ''Turn around and put these on.'' Her other hand carrying her pink silk lace panties came into view.

Before he could protest, she said in a soft voice, ''I'll get a real kick out of this.''

''I didn't know you were this kinky.'' He took the panties she offered and shrugged muttering, ''Whatever floats your boat.''

He turned around and donned the panties.

 _Whoa! Now that's a pleasant surprise. They are so comfortable! I can wear them all day long._

A camera shutter sound invaded his musings. He turned around and was blinded by a flash.

His hands flew to protect his eyes. ''Clarice! What are you doing?''

''Now I've something I can blackmail you with if things don't go my way. One condescending word and these photos will be all over the internet,'' she said holding the phone with the recently taken pics in front of his eyes. The pic showed his backside, pink fabric covering his ass. She swiped her finger across the screen and another pic appeared. This one showed a dazed and confused looking Dr. Lecter, eyes covered by hands, wearing nothing but silk lace panties.

He was dumbstruck at her cunning.

"Meet me in the study in an hour for the first lecture. And one more thing…" She brought her mouth to his ear and whispered, "Pink suits you." She slapped his buttocks and left the room with a big, satisfied smile.

Dr. Lecter growled and ripped the panties off.

* * *

Dr. Lecter was sitting on the couch in his study, a pen in his hand and a notebook open on his thighs, as he watched Clarice write 'Introduction' at the top of the whiteboard.

She turned around, in full 'professor' mode, beginning the lecture. "Before we dive into more complex issues and problems, let's get our basics right. Let us take a moment and ask ourselves _what is fanfiction_?"

"Fanfiction is the..."

"Students must raise their hands and wait for my acknowledgement before speaking," she said sternly.

The expression on his face was priceless.

"Clarice, heh, there's no other student. I'm the only..."

"Students must not talk back and address me as 'Mrs. Lecter' only as a symbol of their respect," she announced. She was having a hard time choking back a laugh.

 _This is so much fun._

Dr. Lecter stared at her for a long time before raising his hand slowly, his eyes boring into hers.

"Hannibal, would you like to answer the question?" she asked in a sing-song tone.

"Yes, _Mrs. Lecter_. Fanfiction is the most popular form of fan labor which fans of any original work use to express their thought processes in the form of a piece of writing involving the characters of the original..."

Her loud snoring interrupted him.

"Boooooooooooring. That's the crux of your problem, Hannibal. Your answer is technically correct but no one will read it till the end because it's boring. Boring with a capital B! Fanfiction readers don't care much about technicalities you see. That's the beauty of fanfiction. As long as you have an interesting story to tell, readers will forgive the grammatical errors and spelling mistakes and mind-boggling plot twists and turns and other technicalities. The key to writing a good fic is to be creative in your approach and engaging in your style."

His eyes were fixed on hers while his hands were busy taking notes.

"The bottom line is to be creative. Let me show you with an example. You must be familiar with Abraham Lincoln's definition of democracy. Would you say it aloud?"

"Democracy is the government of the people, for the people and by the people," he quoted Lincoln.

"Good. Now I'll use this original quote and give it a twist to define fanfiction."

She paused for effect before continuing, "Fanfiction is the fiction of the fans, for the fans and by the fans. See? That's what fanfiction is all about. Being creative."

Dr. Lecter was impressed. He remembered the fics he'd read on Wednesday night, and for the first time recognized the creativity of the writers.

* * *

 **A/N: Dr. Lecter in panties! I hope I didn't spoil him for anybody.** **On a more serious note, the next chapter will take at least a fortnight. I have a lot of tests coming up.**


End file.
